


One Fine Morning

by Hijackedvictor



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijackedvictor/pseuds/Hijackedvictor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One regular morning in the Mellark house</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Fine Morning

I wake up, slightly startled to have the light shine brightly on my eyes despite the fact that it happens every morning. I look to my right, and immediately a small smile forms unwillingly because what I see is a sleeping Peeta. A man whose face is so calm yet strong, reflecting the character underneath all the scars and pain. I carefully prop myself up on one elbow and give myself a minute just to look at him, to memorize all his features, looking for anything new. With the same sunlight, Peeta’s blonde hair is a ruffled mess but almost as if every strand was carefully placed in each spot. It’s curls sticking out here and there and it looks almost as if he’s radiating, like a messy halo. His eyebrows are a slightly darker shade of blonde than his hair, and aside from strays, it’s perfectly aligned. His eyelashes look longer when his eyes are closed, perfectly framing his face. His mouth, slightly open to let out little exhales of air. Those lips that I’ve kissed so many times, now slightly paler than usual but ever so soft. His cheek show signs of being touched by a hand made of fire and it creeps up to his forehead, framing his face. I can see just below his left ear, on that jawline I know so well, there’s a narrow scratch about the length of my pinky, most likely from our trip to the forest yesterday. As I go to trace my finger over it, Peeta wakes with a gasp and I recoil. His eyes are clouded with fear and confusion. Although this only lasts for about three seconds before he calms and realizes where he is, it destroys me because it’s the same reaction I get every morning when I touch him. Despite the fact that Peeta has improved significantly over the years I still fear he may never go back to feeling completely safe in my presence.

Peeta wipes his face with his hand and lets out a groan and I just stare at him, waiting for the next move. He looks at me and gives a wry smile. He knows. So, carefully he reaches his hands to cup my face and plants a kiss on my forehead. The simplest things make me feel so much better.

“Good morning,” he says, still cupping my face, looking me in the eyes.

“Morning.” And as if it were permission he gets out of bed, wearing nothing but his red plaid boxers.  
With the sun shining on his back I can see where the fire acted like a frustrated artist and his back a blank canvas that day so many years ago. The scars stretching and stopping all over his back looking almost like spider webs, the uneven coloring, I wonder if my own back looks the same. Underneath that, I can see his muscles push and pull as he stretches towards the sky. I reach for his back to trace the hurt but just then he starts for the bathroom. While scratching his bum, he walks the ten feet to our shower and I can hear the start and fall of water. I follow to brush my teeth but as I reach for the toothpaste I catch a glimpse of Peeta’s naked body. It’s nothing I’ve never seen before but it still amazes me how something that was once so weak and defeated now is strong and beautiful.

“Liking the view, are we?” Peeta says with a sly smile as he makes this pose, putting one hand on his popped hip and the other on his head. He thinks he’s so funny.

“Maybe if there was something to look at,” I snide back. Which is a lie, because he is a lot to take in, but I can’t stand letting him think he won. Plus, that offended face Peeta makes with his mouth wide open and eyes imitating hurt is just so adorable.

He steps in the already steaming water and I finish with my teeth.

~~~~ 

Back in the kitchen, I’m nibbling on a cheese bun Peeta baked last night specifically for this morning when he comes running down the stairs cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I take a bite from the bread.

“I took too long in the shower and now I’m late for work,” he huffs out as he stuffs a bun in his mouth and hops around with one shoe on. Peeta owns the only bakery in our little town with about three others helping him. No one would really miss him if he were an hour late, hell, it would be fine if he skipped the day. But I’d miss him.

“Do you really have to go? I mean, we both know they’d be perfectly fine with out you,” I reach across the table towards him to catch his attention but he’s too busy looking for his other shoe and scoffing at my daily plea. “They’re your little protégées, they can handle the place without burning it down. Please Peeta, if you stay, I’ll do that thing that you like so much, the one that makes you scream. I’ll even do it wearing that orange dress you love so much.” I sound too desperate to be sexy but, just for a few seconds, it grabs his attention before the answer is what I knew it would be. I drop my gaze and go back to nibbling on my cheese bun. After finding and putting on his other shoe he sits down next to me and cups my face again with one hand forcing me to look at him.

“Katniss, you know I would love to spend the whole day with you like yesterday, but you also know I have to do this. Just like how you have your bow and Haymitch has his liquor, I have my bread. I need this.” He looks at my lips before going in for the kiss. It starts off tender and sweet but as I grab him and pull him closer, desperate for his touch, the kiss gets stronger. I climb on top of him, my hands gripping his face and Peeta’s on my hips. We sit like this for several minutes, never breaking contact unless to breathe. Peeta moves his kisses to my cheek, up my jaw, and starts to nibble on my ear before he whispers, “Now I’m really late.” 

He gets up, picking me up as he stands and placing me back on my seat. As he starts to walk away I grab his shirt and pull him down for another kiss. He pushes away this time but after he sees the look on my face he goes back in for one last kiss, “You love me? Real or not real?” he asks. But without waiting for a reply he’s out the door yelling “I’ll see you tonight!”

I stare at the door for a few seconds before whispering “Real.”


End file.
